


What more than that?

by Blackbutlersecrets



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Introspection, Loki’s thoughts, Pre-Infinity War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 06:12:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16423937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackbutlersecrets/pseuds/Blackbutlersecrets
Summary: A collection of musings related to Loki of Asgard.





	1. Him?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chill_with_Penguins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chill_with_Penguins/gifts).



> This is a collection of prose I wrote for a poetry contest that are essentially poorly disguised fanfiction. Loki got into my mind and refused to leave until I got some of these out (and even then, he’s still there).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What does madness look like on Loki?

Madness

All it takes is one look and you know. This man is dangerous. The kind of monster you were warned about as a child. This is a man who has fallen and scraped the bottom so many times he has forgotten what the sun looks like. Life has tried him and left him with nothing.

Unhinged, unstable, unsure.

Uncertain of anything that’s not him, and even then there’s more questions than answers. Maybe there was a plan once, maybe. Now there’s just fury rolling off him in waves, and you are suffocating. His presence has the energy of a dying star. Even when all feels calm, you have no idea when there might be a supernova. Every second you spend in his presence shoots electricity into your veins, sends crashing waves through the water filling up your lungs.

His posture is animalistic. Fiercely proud and savage, promising nothing but ruthlessness and suffering if you are to get too close. His movements are jerky and chaotic, the lack of order pronounced in every step. Madness overtakes his limbs. Every flick is a flurry of activity, the simplest act a hurricane of force. A twist of his fingers could break your neck, and stopping him would be but a fantasy.

His words are power. They slither around the room, impossibly sweet and alluring. The promise behind them is tinged with honey and battery acid, tempting you to taste them just to see if you can. _There’s nothing to be afraid of._ Silvertongue. Every phrase finds a chink in your armor, gets impossibly close and impossibly warm until your chest burns with anger that had formerly only kindled. _Why are you angry?_ That depends on what he wants you to feel. Liesmith.

The air is bitter with anger, alight with tension that sits heavy on the tongue. Energy crackles in the air and every second sends another shock to your heart, stronger and stronger until you fear it will give out.

There is a craving within him you couldn’t possibly hope to understand. And it’s not as if he would deign to tell you, either. A desire that when weighed on the scales of the universe, comes out on top in his eyes. There is nothing, absolutely nothing that can ever be more important, more crucial, more necessary. How could he not do whatever it takes to achieve it? There was no other way.

His raving is so disjointed, so misguided and wild that for a moment it’s easy to believe it’s not his.

One look into his eyes and all is lost. They flicker with phases in and out of this realm, seeing both everything and nothing. The abyss found in his eyes is all consuming, and it is not a warning it’s a promise. The absence of color in his eyes is telling. There is black where there once used to be warmth, a cruel glint where there once used to be laughter. The whites of his eyes are repellent. They are too clear and you can see too much into them, things that you hide from even yourself. Surely he can’t know these things, there’s no way that he could, but after one glance you are uncertain and then you understand.

You understand that his madness was not born from him, it was a gift. A gift from those who didn’t care. From those who let him fall, who let him fester in the shadows and didn’t react when the seed of hatred began to bloom.

When you are stripped of your sense of self in his presence, when you are left only with the vague notion that you are a being that exists, there will be nothing clearer. The clouds will fall away from the moon and leave nothing unexposed. When even his intentions fall away in the light, the hatred glows blue. Everything glows blue. The tears he’s shed, the heart he possesses and even the skin he wears. The hatred spears out in all directions, striking everyone who had ever gotten close. It digs it’s talons in and /grips/. The blood that leaks out is blue, and as the smoke begins to creep towards you as well, you are stunned by the sheer density of darkness that covers him. Not an inch of him is left uncovered by his own hatred, and you wonder if he is still falling.


	2. How?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki’s slow descent into uncertainty.

I’m one of them.  
They call me brother, their smiles made of stretched sunlight and courage.   
Their laughter wraps around me, warm and encompassing, holding me close and assuring me of my place here.   
I am wanted.   
I belong.

Right?

One interaction leaves me uncertain. An ignorant flick of a hand, the dismissal of my words. A cool breeze blows through, and despite the warmth of seconds ago, I am frozen. The chill dies down and everyone is smiling again, as if nothing had happened. Nobody else can feel the ghost of a breeze on their neck, the phantom cold intent on only me.

Maybe it was a fluke. An imagined slight. I try to forget, to move on, but the shadows won’t stop shifting. The harder I try to ignore them, the darker they become. They dance in the corner of my vision, sinister and solid. Yet it’s only I who see them. Why can nobody else see them?

The smiles continue but now they look forced. It’s as if my eyes have been opened. Everything is fundamentally different and I can never go back. His rock solid smile now tremors around the edges, shaking on uncertain ground. Her laugh sounds faked and the humor in her eyes has long since faded to nothing.

Why must they all be so intent on lying to me?

The more I look, the more I see. EVERYONE is hiding something from me, everyone. What don’t they want me to see? What are the shadows teasing?

Is it about me?

They hate me, don’t they. The darkness in my peripheral agrees, the light in the room paling in comparison with its strength. I knew it. I knew it I knew it I knew it. Arrogant, selfish. Every word they speak to me sinks the ice deeper into my bones, trapping me into the skin they hate. Nobody wants to break the facade.

What am I that they hate me? What have I done?

They carry on as if nothing happened, as if the shadows don’t seethe with my anger, as if the smudges under my eyes didn’t exist. It’s painfully obvious I don’t belong, and I don’t WANT to belong either. I was never wanted. It was all a trick, a game in poor taste.

The sentiment echoes in my heart over and over, the beat of a drum cascading higher and higher. I need to see, I need to know. Am I right? Would they catch me if I fell? My mind, the shadows, the facade says no but their DAMN smiles say otherwise.

If they won’t shatter the lie.

I will.

I only let go to see if you would catch me.


	3. His Justification

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How could Loki do the things he did?

Ignored  
Forgotten  
Cast out   
A monster  
Where did I go wrong?  
I was loved, damn it!  
I was loved   
When did I become so unwanted?  
So unclean, so different from-   
_Him._

He’s wrong.  
Weak, insolent, useless-  
Wrong.  
Spreading lies, spreading filth,  
Who would believe such a fool so wrong?  
Everyone believes him  
Everyone sees his sunlight whereas I see the truth, his cowardice.   
So foolish, stubborn, useless.  
He’s scum of the Earth, a horrid blemish,  
An intolerable stain.  
It’s HIM who doesn’t belong.  
That must be it.   
He’s the monster.   
He’s wrong.

Who says?  
I say.  
I know better, I’m right.  
How can anyone think anything different?  
How can they not see that?  
It’s obvious that I’m right.  
Not even a question.  
Of course I’m right.  
Why wouldn’t I be?

They're wrong.  
My plan makes so much sense.  
In fact, it’s the only way.  
The only thing that could work  
The only thing that could save us   
Without this we will fail   
Without _me_ we are doomed

It’s up to me,  
They left it all to me,  
I’ll make it right.  
They’re depending on me.   
Everything will be better.  
It will be right,  
It will be good,  
Pure.  
I’ll fix it all.  
Just watch.  
I’ll make it right.

He  
Just  
Has  
To   
Go.

 

I’ve done it,  
He’s finally quiet, the lies are over!  
The world is now a better place!  
Look at what I’ve done!  
Better place, right?  
I’ve done the right thing.  
I should be rewarded.  
It was the right thing.  
They should be worshipping me.  
Why aren’t they worshipping me?  
Can’t they see I’ve done the right thing?  
Can’t they see I’ve saved them?

What do you mean they’re after me?  
They hate me?  
Don’t they know?  
It was for them?

Didn’t we already decide?  
It was the right thing?

They’re after me they’re after me  
Can’t stay here can’t stay here  
They’ll get me they’ll get me  
What do I do what do I do  
I’ve already done everything.   
I already did the right thing.  
Who are you to tell me that I was wrong?  
Someone will save me, right?  
Someone will see what I’ve done and   
They’ll save me.

I  
Just  
Have  
To  
Wait.


	4. How does it feel?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What does madness feel like, Loki?

A monster. Is this by choice or design?

Looking at the night sky means watching the stars crumble to dust.

Being lost at sea without a paddle, without a boat and without the stars to guide you. The waves beat upon your skin with such strength that you bleed, covered in salt and bruises.

How can anyone rescue you if you can’t tell you’re lost?

Crying for help, screaming when nobody responds. It isn’t until later when you realize you never opened your mouth.

How can you know right and wrong if you don’t even know when you’re awake?

The air itself is rebelling, bending itself away from your lungs so you can never seem to breathe.

Breathing into nothing, reaching for something you can’t see or feel, something you should remember but you forgot long ago.

Looking down at your hands to see flickers of flame. Charred skin that breaks off at a touch. It doesn’t matter that it’s raining.

Mirrors are to be avoided at all costs. They show possibilities, millions of them, all better than you. Every choice is wrong, every second is another taunt another disgrace.

Your heart twists with every tick of the clock which is funny because you could have sworn you no longer had one.

Living life through a smoke screen, two seconds behind everyone else.  
Raving, making cruel promises to try and battle the apathy.  
Fighting for the right to every word when life would rather see you silenced, needle and thread in hand to stitch up your mouth and keep you down.

The fear of falling apart is tangible, you can already taste their disappointment on your tongue. It’s something you’re familiar with.

You can’t be hopeless if you don’t remember what hope is.

They should have just saved you, WHY DIDNT THEY CATCH YOU?

Surely there was another way, surely he could  
Have just reached out and held on  
Why couldn’t he reach out?  
What stopped him?

Why did you have to fall?  
Why did they let you fall?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s always a possibility of me writing more, depending on how persistent Loki is in my brain. Thanks for reading.
> 
> If anyon is interested in me possibly writing a full length story about Loki, please let me know in the comments. It’s somethint I’m interested in, but uncertain about.


End file.
